Through Your Threshold

Through Your Threshold

In your mind I wait for you, with sweet anticipation;
By missive rite you’re drawn into your secret consultation,
Or by the scent of potent incense helplessly seduced.
Just take my hand and lay thee down, the bulbs have been reduced,
For candles rise like fireflies to consummate the mood,
And sultry-strummed electric rhythms strip your body nude.
Now as you drift in limpid dreams, undight therefrom your robe,
These hands fore-warmed in tepid oils ache now for to probe
The smoothness of your malleable flesh, I trace moist circles ’round
Your efflorescent areolae that therein surround
The budding pink erectile blossoms, drink my touch like rain;
Your longing nipples beg sensation, still yet I refrain.
Each oiled hand from shoulders, breasts, and neck, to navel, slips,
Then slowly down your sun-tanned thighs and slipped around the hips,
Whence lifted firmly for a moment, kicking in the air,
A downy pillow deftly placed, we’ve quickly ’come aware
Of waves of carnal energy that burn within the room;
Your swollen clit grows prominent: a peacock’s radiant plume
Doth shine not with more pulsing glory, nor more ardently
The flowering tree, sprout in the springtime, seeks its buds broached free.
But finally I take no more, my lips begin to tingle,
Thence with thy neck, with each hard nipple, my tongue doth intermingle.
My course doth turn due south anon, pursuing thine aroma;
My cock, alive and serpentine, as fierce as the aboma,
Now out therefrom its den desires, sweeter caves doth seek;
Wherewith thy curious hand explores from shaft to gorgèd peak.
Employing the mere tip of tongue I graze thy burdened reed,
Your hands grip and compel my head to venture by thy lead.
Your hot canal emits thereby the sweetest breath where courted;
I give myself to heaven’s hands; I’m by thy song transported.
I fane would quickly steal a vital breath of air, but rather,
Just let your honey’d pussy foam my face with fragrant lather.
Thy moans lift like the rumbling earth whom, bubbling up its store,
Releases in a hot wet rush when it can hold no more.
Exuberant from every fleck your legs begin to shudder;
My fertile satchels hence become protuberant as an udder.
I sink myself in softest heav’n, entwined by every nerve,
We grasp each other’s bursting souls, which flesh cannot preserve.
Against the gloss of moon and star what lesser lights yield fire?
But such flames burn yet still the more, where art and love conspire.